Shadow of the Knight
by magicrobins
Summary: Alternate dimension. "If this ever happened, you were chosen by my sons and I. You will become Batman, you have to. The world needs Batman. The world needs you." OCs & Canons. More information on my profile.
1. Prologue

**Warning: Contains characters that are heterosexual, bisexual, and homosexual.**

**A/N: Okay, so this series takes place in a different dimension than the Batman series you all know and love takes place in. Please RER (Read, enjoy, review) :)**

**Also, there may be typos in this. If there are, don't worry. I'll fix them as soon as I catch them ;D**

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><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

"_**THIS IS CAT GRANT,**_ reporting to you live from Gotham City."

Dustin looks at the television in the living room from the kitchen, eyes falling onto the blonde reporter that is standing outside of Gotham City Hall. His nine year old little brother, Trent, is sitting on the couch playing on the newest portable game station. He has short dark brown hair and blue eyes while Dustin has short black hair, blue eyes, and is eighteen years old. Dustin sets the plate he was cleaning back into the sink and walks up behind the couch, drying his hands with a towel.

"The gang known as the Bloods that has been terrorizing Gotham City for the past few months has now agreed to talk to the city council about peace."

He frowns at the television. Do those on the city council honestly believe the Bloods want any sort of peace? What they want is stated clearly in their name. _Blood_. In his opinion, all they want is more bloodshed. Shaking his head, he drops the towel onto Trent's head, chuckling as the young boy looks up at him, obviously annoyed.

"C'mon, time to get ready to go to the Wayne's," he says as Trent tosses the towel to the floor. "I'm sure you can have a nice play date with Damian." He smirks when his brother sticks his tongue out.

"I'm too old for play dates," Trent protests, "Besides, that Damian kid is no fun. Oh! And he says he knows thousands of ways to kill me."

Dustin gives his brother a look that clearly states that he doesn't believe him. "How could an eleven year old know thousands of ways to kill you?"

Trent shrugs. "How would I know?"

Dustin sighs. "Well you're going. I can't leave you home alone and I promised Mr. Wayne I'd help him out. Look, we need money and Mr. Wayne is willing to pay me to help his butler out around the manor."

Trent's shoulders sag in defeat. Dustin motions for him to go to his room and get changed out of his pajamas. He watches his brother stalk out of the room before giving the television one last glance. It is showing the leader of the Bloods, Charles Starvin, walking into City Hall. Charles is in his late thirties but is as fit as someone in their mid-twenties. He has short dark brown hair slicked back and gray eyes that felt as if they could see through a person's very soul. He turns the television off and goes to his own room, changing into a black t-shirt, dark denim jeans, and black sneakers. He walks back into the living room to find Trent playing his game again, now dressed in a blue t-shirt with Superman's s-shield on it, light blue denim jeans, and white sneakers. He takes the game away and turns it off, earning a pout from his younger brother.

"Let's get going," he says as he tosses Trent his black sweatshirt, which he pulls on, and puts on his own black leather jacket. He grabs his car keys and opens the frown door, lightly chuckling as his brother stalks to the car. "Oh stop moping. Maybe I'll let you help me, 'kay?"

"How is that any fun?" Trent asks as his older brother unlocks the car and they both get in. The streets of Gotham are quiet. Not many people left their home after the gang war started. Though the war ended quickly, the Bloods never stopped terrorizing Gotham. Even the Bats couldn't stop them. Now they want peace? None of it adds up in Dustin's head.

Suddenly, their car comes to a sharp halt. Trent looks at his brother, to ask why he has stopped in the middle of the road. His brother is staring ahead of them, eyes wide with what looks almost like fear. He follows his brother's gaze out the front window and his eyes widen. From the streets of Gotham City, they can see Wayne Manor burning. Without warning, Dustin hits on the gas, causing his younger brother to yelp in surprise. Once the car is there in front of Wayne Manor, Dustin gets out.

"Stay put," he hisses protectively at Trent when he notices him go to get out of the car, "Call 911 and stay put." Before Trent can protest, Dustin is running into Wayne Manor.

His heart is pounding in his chest as he kicks open the front door. He staggers back as flames come close to burning him. He curses and jumps through the doorway, rolling onto the floor. He opens his eyes and finds himself staring at a bloodied body. He cries out and scrambles to his feet. He stares at the body, recognizing it. He quickly puts his hand over his mouth and doubles over, trying not to retch. The body is dead. His eyes widen when he sees the body is in the same costume Nightwing wore, but the mask was gone.

"Oh my God," he manages to get out, taking unsteady steps from the body. "Dick Grayson..." He remembers his mother taking him to Wayne Manor a couple times when he was younger and meeting Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, and even Jason Todd. Coughing as his mind finally registers the smoke that is filling his lungs, he frantically looks around. His eyes land on another dead body, one belonging to an older man. "Oh God, Alfred..."

His mind racing, he runs out of the room. He has to find someone, anyone, as long as they were alive. He is shaking from fear by the time he finds Red Robin, Red Hood, and Batgirl... no Tim Drake, Jason Todd, and Stephanie Brown, _dead_ in the hallways. Cassandra Cain, Blackbat... Barbara Gordon, Oracle. Gotham's heroes are the Waynes? Or _were_ the Waynes? He has no time to think about what he is finding out; only that everyone is dead, obviously brutally murdered. He comes across a broken elevator and a staircase he has never seen before. Running down the stairs, he freezes when he sees young Damian Wayne dressed as Robin laying lifelessly on the stairs. Trying to keep himself from crying, he cautiously steps around the eleven year old before running all the way down the stairs.

"Bruce?" he cries out, his breath hitching as he notices he is in the _Bat Cave_. He hears a groan and looks to see Batman, cowl off to show Bruce Wayne's face, laying on the ground, bleeding out and almost dead. He rushes to the man's side and takes him in his arms. "Oh God, oh God."

"Dustin," the man's voice grabs his panicking mind's attention. He looks down to see a serious expression on the man's injured face.

"I have to get you to a hospital," Dustin says, moving to get up and bring the man up, but Bruce's hand tightly gripping his wrist stops him. "I-I don't care if they'll find out you're Batman. I-I can't let you die."

"I won't make it," Bruce says as if it's obvious, which it probably is. His breathing is slowing down, but he is still struggling to get his words out to the boy. "Listen, Dustin. Before your mother died, I promised to look after you and your brother. That is why I often had you come here and visit with the family, why I paid for you and your brother to learn how to fight. Dick was even trying to convince me to include you in our other life."

"Bruce please, you're not going to die. Please just let me get my cell—"

_"Dustin,"_ Bruce growls, his face wincing with pain from his ribs. "You and your brother are not safe. The Bloods... You need to get to Wayne Tech. Underneath it is a base I had built, in case the Cave was ever compromised. You and your brother must get there."

"Y-You can't die," Dustin stammers. There is so much blood he feels sick. "W-We need you. I-I need you. G-Gotham needs Batman."

If Dustin doesn't know any better, he swears an apologetic smile almost goes onto Bruce Wayne's face. But this is Bruce Wayne, a serious business man who rarely, if ever, smiles.

"You don't need me anymore," Bruce forces out, his breathing becoming shallower by the second. "You're ready. But... you're right. Gotham, the world... it needs Batman." He grabs Dustin's hand and closes his fist around something. "If this ever happened, you were chosen by my sons and I. _You_ will become Batman, you have to. The world needs Batman. The world needs _you_."

Dustin looks down and opens his palm. Placed on his palm is a small, black batarang.

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><p><strong>AN: Well, what do you think of the prologue? Remember, this takes place in an **_**alternate dimension**_**. Who knows, Dustin might eventually take a trip to the dimension that we all know and love ;) I'll start working on chapter one right away! Thanks for reading and please review :3**

**FUN FACT: For some unknown reason, I got the idea for this show after watching an episode of **_**Batman Beyond**_**.**


	2. Child of Mine

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Bruce Wayne, Batman, Dick Grayson, Robin, Alfred, Gotham City, etc. They all belong to DC comics.**

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, lot's been going on. Okay, now this is my first time writing with the Bat-canons besides of course Bruce's little part in the prologue, but this is bigger than the prologue, so yeah. Comments are always welcomed, but remember this is my first time. Also, sorry the chapter's so short! RER (read, enjoy, review)**

**Also, I apologize if there are any typos. I don't have an editor, so yeah. If there are typos, they will be fixed when I catch them.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE<strong>

_Nine years ago..._

_**CORNELIA CARLILE IS SEATED**_ on a cushioned chair in the living room of her apartment. Her hands are resting on her stomach. She is only thirty-one, but in the dim, golden lighting of the room, she looks old and frail. Her long, dark brown hair is tangled and in a mess. She has a black eye and an old, fading bruise on her cheek. She is in a state that Bruce Wayne has never seen her in before. She looks lost even though he has finally found her and returned her home.

"God, Bruce, don't look at me like that."

He notices that her voice is low and hoarse. He wonders if she will ever be the same. She is a strong woman, a former cop, and even a former lover of his. She knows his secrets and he knows hers. He even shares a secret with her.

"Damn it, Bruce. I'm fine."

"We both know what Starvin did to you," he finally says, eyes narrowing on her, but still holding a small tinge of worry. "I doubt your fine, especially since Starvin is still on the streets."

Icy blue eyes meet his. "The cops won't do anything. They are too afraid of starting a war. You shouldn't do anything either. We don't want Starvin out for Batman's head on a silver platter."

Bruce frowns. "You and I both know I can easily get him in jail."

"You and I both know that that will put Dustin in danger." There is a hint of fear in her voice. "He's barely nine, Bruce. He isn't like Richard. He isn't ready to lead a life like yours. That's why I'm the one raising him, remember?"

"If you keep holding his hand," Bruce protests, "How can you expect him to ever be ready?"

Cornelia furrows her brows; an act that most think is intimidating, but not Bruce. She doesn't intimidate him, especially in her current state. All she does is worry him. Since the day he met her, a young reckless cop, who he had sworn would someday get herself killed. She hasn't changed one bit save her job. She is now working for the FBI, rather than the local Gotham Police Department.

"I chose to be the one to raise him _before_ I found out your secret," her words would have been snapped out, but she is growing tired and feels sick. She sighs. "That doesn't matter now, does it? He's safe at the manor... Bruce?"

The desperate and hopeless look on her faces makes his heart clench. He has never seen her like this before and it slightly concerns him. She no longer seems like the Cornelia he knows. "Yes?"

"Keep him at the manor please," she wraps her arms around her stomach, eyes falling to her lap. "I don't want him to see me like this. Plus, I'm sure he likes it with you. Who wouldn't? You're a great father to Richard. I'm sure you'll be a great father to Dustin."

"Neither of the boys even knows, Cornelia."

"They don't have to," her icy eyes once again fall on him, "Bruce, I'm... I'm pregnant."

A scowl paints itself onto his face, but is isn't directed at her. Though neither of them have romantic feelings toward each other anymore, she is still his friend and he would be damned if he lets Charles Starvin get away with what he has done. He plans on catching Starvin and his gang, the Bloods, if it is the last thing he ever does. He wants to see them in jail, locked behind bars.

"Bruce?"

He looks at her, his expression softening ever-so-slightly. She isn't ready to tell Dustin what has happened. The boy isn't dumb and refuses to believe that his mother is simply on a mission for the FBI. He isn't sure what he could possibly tell the nine year old child that belongs to both him and Cornelia.

"I won't tell him," he promises, though he wishes he could tell the boy. She smiles and closes her eyes. It isn't long before her tired and worn-out mind drifts to sleep. Gently, he picks her up and carries her to her room. He makes sure to call Leslie and only leaves once she is there to make sure Cornelia is okay.

When he gets back to the manor, he finds Dick trying to keep Dustin entertained. He almost smiles to himself, watching the boys in the living room. A board game is spread out across the floor, and the recently sixteen year old Dick Grayson is attempting to show nine year old Dustin Carlile how to play. The boys certainly look like they could be brothers, both with black hair and blue eyes. Those that don't know he had taken in Dick, often think he is the teenager's actual father. He wonders what the press would think if they saw him with Dustin, whom shares both his and Cornelia's genes.

Dick is the first to notice his presence, giving his guardian a grin. Dustin looks at Dick, blinks, and then follows his gaze. He is quickly on his feet and running to Bruce's side. With Dick, it would have been to welcome him home, but not with Dustin. Dustin only runs to him in order to look up at him with big, blue eyes, silently asking if there is any news on his mother's whereabouts. Bruce's eyes meet with Dick's and just with a look, he tells his ward all that he needs to know. He doesn't want to lie to Dustin, so instead he watches as Dick walks over and places his hands on Dustin's shoulders.

The boy's head lowers and his shoulders sag, but nothing more is said on the topic. A few hours later, Bruce and Dick are in the living room. The news is playing on the television, but neither of them is really paying attention.

"Master Bruce? Master Richard?" at the sound of Alfred's voice, they both turn their heads. Bruce folds the newspaper he had been reading and sets it on the arm of the couch. They look to see a black-haired boy clutching onto the butler's leg, somewhat hiding shyly behind him. "He refuses to go to sleep no matter what I say." The three of them exchange a look. This has been going on for almost two months, since the boy had been 'forced' to live with them.

"Hey, Dust," Dick calls, grabbing the boy's attention. "Want a bedtime story?"

Dustin frowns. "I'm too old for a bedtime story. I'm nine."

Bruce raises a somewhat bemused eyebrow. "_Almost_ nine," he corrects as the boy pouts, "Your birthday's tomorrow."

Dustin scampers away from Alfred and plops in-between the heroes. He curls up in his spot, snuggling against Dick, who lightly chuckles. Alfred walks over and places a blanket on him as he yawns. Bruce watches as his eyes flutter close, hearing him mumble something that sounds like a goodnight to his mother. Guilt briefly flickers in his eyes. He smoothes a hand over the boy's face. He goes to get up, moving to grab the boy and carry him to bed, when a small voice calls his name.

"Bruce? Dick?"

"What is it, Dust?" Dick asks, looking down at the small body that is still snuggled against his side.

"Is Mamma dead?"

The question makes them look at each other. Even Alfred pauses from exiting the room to look back, a small look of pity and sadness on his face.

"No, kiddo," Bruce comforts him, giving the child a rare moment of affection from him. He lightly presses his face to Dustin's silky black hair, kissing his head. He wishes he could raise the boy at Wayne Manor, take care of him like he had with Dick. But Cornelia has full custody of their son. "She's alive, I promise."

"But...but Mamma hasn't come home in awhile," Dustin's voice cracks, "Sometimes you don't come home for awhile too. You and Dick. Alfred says your okay, but...but I don't wanna be left alone." Dustin's eyes flicker onto Alfred, who often has to take care of the house when not in the Batcave, helping Batman and Robin.

"We won't leave you alone," Dick promises, wrapping his arms around the boy he often tells Bruce is like a younger brother to him.

"Dick's right. Alfred, Dick, your mother, and I will always return to you." He knows it's a promise they cannot keep, but the child is drowsy and he doubts he will even remember the conversation when he wakes up. Dustin simply smiles before falling back asleep. Without a word, he scoops the fragile body into his arms and carries him to the guest room, where he has been sleeping. He places his biological son into a bed and tucks him in.

"I was around his age when I found out."

He grunts and turns to see Dick standing in the bedroom doorway. "Cornelia has made it clear that she doesn't want him involved in our..._other_ lives."

Dick crosses his arms over his chest. "He'll find out eventually, Bruce. I guarantee it. He's a smart kid. And you're not the best at keeping secrets from his gene pool." He smirks as he knows that Bruce knows what he's talking about. Cornelia hadn't been told about Batman and Robin, she had found out.

"He won't find out," Bruce assures his ward, glancing back at Dustin's sleeping form. "It would put him in danger and none of us want that..."

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><p><strong>FUN FACT: Originally, Dustin was going to be the son of Cornelia Carlile and Charles Starvin.<strong>


	3. Our Darkest Night

**A/N: Sorry it's so short! RER**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO<strong>

our darkest night

_Three years ago…_

_**CORNELIA CARLILE PLACES A**_ few more bullets into her gun as she kneels down behind a wall. The previous day, war was declared on Gotham by the Bloods. The conditions have already gotten so bad that the FBI have been called in. Commissioner Gordon and even the Batman can't seem to keep the citizens' moral up. But if they can't do anything, what hope does she have? If anything, she figures she might be able to _help_ Batman and Gordon catch Charles Starvin, but she doubts she can catch him on her own.

Biting down on her lower lip, she digs out her communicator that can patch her through to any of the Bats. She hooks it into her ear, looking around to make sure her fellow FBI members are still surrounding the building. "Batman, you there?"

Bruce's gruff 'bat-voice' responds. "What is it, Agent Carlile?"

"How far away are you from the docks?" she whispers into the communicator.

"It's going to be a little longer," he replies. She can hear a faint battle in the background. "The Joker and several other villains have escaped from prison."

"Is Nightwing available?"

"He should be rounding up Poison Ivy at the moment."

She sighs. "Then we're going in."

"Agent Carlile, _don't._ I will be there as soon as I can, but until then—"

_"I can't," _she stresses through gritted teeth, "With every passing second, there's a chance that Starvin and his Bloods could get away. I can't take that chance. My team and I are going in _now._"

She takes the communicator out of her ear and places it back in her pocket. She looks to her team and gives them a nod, raising her gun. She leads them into the warehouse, but no one is inside. She keeps her gun ready in her hand, holding a flashlight in the other. The moon's light barely shines through the halfway shut windows near the roof of the building. She raises her hand that holds the flashlight and her team comes to a halt. She doesn't move, instead her eyes dart around. Something isn't right. The doors to the warehouse slam shut. She whirls around, her team looking around as well. In the background, she can hear the faint beeping.

"It's a trap!" she yells, though she knows it's too late. There is the click of several locks and she knows that most of them won't make it out alive. She takes her communicator out and puts it back in her ear. She hears several team members call her name and looks to see what they have found. There are four bombs, all set to go off within a few moment. "Batman? You there?"

"We're almost there, Agent Carlile."

"Don't bother. It's a trap. The Bloods are probably gone by now. You won't make it in time. There's a bomb." There is a silence on the other end. She makes sure to speak before he can. She keeps her voice quiet, so only he can hear her. "Take care of my boys, Bruce. Tell them I love them. Tell them everything's going to be alright, because it will be. Take care of them. Take care of yourself too. I love you."

"Cornelia—"

His next words don't reach her as the beeping etches itself into her ears. She wonders if she'll ever stop hearing that beeping, even in the afterlife. She wonders what's in the afterlife. If there is a Heaven, she hopes she has a place there. She prays Dustin and Trent will forgive her. She takes out the locket she always wore around her neck and opens it up. The last thing she sees is a picture of her two sons before the bombs explode and her life is cut short.

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><p>Dustin Carlile watches as his mother's casket is lowered into a grave. He is dressed in a nice black suit that he doesn't own, just like his younger brother, Trent Carlile. They were gifts from the Waynes, friends of his mother. Trent stands in front of him, clutching his hand. Bruce Wayne is standing by his side. Behind him are Tim Drake and Dick Grayson. He bites down hard on his lower lip, his teeth cutting into his lips. His eyes are tightly shut and his shoulders are slightly shaking as he tries to keep himself from crying. His mother, the strongest and toughest woman he has ever known, is gone. He is only fifteen, without a father, and his mother has just been ripped from him. He considers Bruce a father-figure, but to him no one can ever replace his mother.<p>

The teenager's grip on his six year old brother's hand tightens, causing the boy to look up at him. His brother's eyes are red and his cheeks are tear stained. Dustin kneels down and wraps his arms around the small boy, pulling him close. He feels Trent burry his face against his shoulder and cry some more. He presses his face against the child's smooth, dark brown hair. A hand goes on his shoulder and he looks to see Bruce.

"I am so sorry," the man says, despite knowing the boys have already heard those words way too many times. "If only Batman had gotten there sooner…" Bruce glances away, obviously blaming himself. It is his fault, in his mind. He hadn't gotten there in time.

Dustin sniffles, blinking away a few tears. "Not Batman's fault," he replies, his voice quiet and cracking. Bruce, Dick, and Tim look at him. Why doesn't he blame them? They had been unable to save his mom. "He's not God. He can't be everywhere. He can't save everyone. Sh-she knew the risks that came with her job. I knew that there was a chance that one day, she wouldn't come home… Everything happens for a reason, right? It… It was her time to go…"

Richard kneels down and picks Trent up in his arms. The child clings to him as he carries him back to the car. Bruce gives Tim a look and the teenager nods before going to catch up with Dick and Trent. Dustin stares at his mother's casket sitting in a hole in the ground. A ring of blue roses sit on top of the sleek black casket. White roses litter the hole, having been tossed in as people left. He doesn't notice as Bruce kneels down next to him. Strong arms wrap around him and pull him close. His body shakes as he finally gives in, clutching onto Bruce and crying.


End file.
